Category: Dear Kids

50. Dawn of the Dread

50. Dawn of the Dread

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10 weeks ago I wrote about loyalty in the midst of losing. I did it after the Minnesota Twins lost–for the umpteenth time in a row–in heart breaking fashion. And now, shortly after Minnesota United Football Club managed to win a game for 75 minutes and lose it all in just under 15, it feels a little hard to hold on to that same “it’s okay to lose because it proves our loyalty” sentiment.

Dear Boys,

The hardest part of losing is the dread sensation that it’s going to happen again, and again, and again. That any moment of happiness or optimism you might feel now ought to be tempered because a mind numbing, heart-crushing debacle might be just around the corner.

When confronted with an often repeated, almost inescapable dread of opportunities, you might well become cynical, aloof, or generally dismissive of hope.

To be honest, it’s a fair response. One I’ve succumbed to my own share of times. (I may be an adoptive Minnesotan, but, by gum, it only takes so many soul crushing defeats by your teams to feel like: “maybe, if I don’t let myself feel hopeful, it won’t hurt again.”)

If you don’t hope that it can turn out well, you can remain dispassionate about it all. You can critique your own team freely and openly. They’re going to hurt you in the end anyway. Why not curse their failures and bemoan their mistakes? What better way to prove that the outcome can’t hurt you than by affixing responsibility for the hurt with every stumble and error?

If you’re not going to be critical, you can be fatalistic. “They were always doomed, they’re from Minnesota.” “Of course it was heart breaking, it’s always heart breaking.” If it’s your identity to be cursed to lose in painful ways, it’s easier to anticipate the pain before it lands.

But the problem with both of these is that it doesn’t fundamentally change the pain. You’re not above caring if you’re critical, you care enough to criticize. You aren’t beyond caring if you’re fatalistic, you care so much you’ve made defeat your identity.

All of these attitudes allow you to worry about the outcome before it happens. And there’s a Roman philosopher who captured the problem with that rather well.

We don’t need to adopt a defensive attitude before our defenses are needed. We don’t need to critique before there is something to criticize. We don’t need to foretell our own inevitable doom if we’re going to feel it anyway.

Instead of critiquing, bemoaning, or anticipating the worst. You can take a deep breath, look back on where you came from and utter a few words of appreciation. Or, as a fellow Loons fan put it this week after the Suffering in Seattle.

https://twitter.com/jakerueter/status/1336175134261063680

I realize that I’m writing this for two boys, and I’m trying to temper my own swearing around you. But goddamn it, Jake is right. The Loons weren’t doomed. They weren’t star-crossed. They don’t stink because they lost this particular game.

They played extremely well in nearly impossible circumstances. They made a run with a dynamic attack that can come back and try it again next year. You don’t have to imagine that all of that was meaningless because it ended painfully. You don’t have to imagine that all hope is null and void if it doesn’t end with a rainbow and a smile.

You don’t need to worry about losing, especially when you can just enjoy living.

49. Shock and Awe

49. Shock and Awe

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Dear Boys,

One of the trickiest parts of being a sports fan is balancing your delight at surprising results with the satisfaction of seeing talent triumph.

Last weekend we got a great dose of the former, and this weekend we will likely see a splash of the latter.

It was a shock to see the notice that “Ross County Scores!” When we knew the opponent was mighty Celtic. Unbeaten Celtic. Irredoubtable Celtic. It was even more of a shock to see the second goal come in for the Staggies as well.

Same Alex, Same.

As I wrote in the weekend review, Ross County was an absolutely shocking winner. Even though Celtic hadn’t dominated of late, they were Celtic, and at home, and riding an 8 match winning streak against County. The Staggies chances were cast off with a laugh.

Then it happened. And the sheer disbelief on Alex Iacovitti’s face mirrored the delighted shock on faces from Dingwall to our doorstep.

That chance to shock, astound and delight is part of what makes sports special. Delighted surprise and unexpected joy: not a bad way to spend a Saturday.

Next Saturday, Rosenborg will face Klepp in the last match of the Toppserien. The will probably win and seal second place. I don’t frequently adopt such confidence, but Rosenborg’s Women have given me no reason to feel otherwise.

This year there have been few constants: death, critical mishandling of facts, and points for the women of Rosenborg. They’ve lost once in 19 games.

Always a pleasure, never a chore.

They’ve been great with Marit Clausen leading the attack, and with Julie Blakstad cutting in, and with Lisa-Marie Utland capitalizing on stretched defenses. They’ve won going away and late. They’ve battled to stalemates and they’ve had lucky equalizers. The one thing they haven’t done is play badly.

That’s a second great pleasure of sports. Seeing talented athletes do what they do so well. Astonished amazement and sincere appreciation: a great treat before you start the work week.

Sports show us a lot, that’s the whole premise of this blog after all, but one of the best/simplest lessons is there’s something to enjoy in both expected and the unexpected events.

48. Diego’s Divinity

48. Diego’s Divinity

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Back in April I wrote about Diego Armando Maradona: a Legendary talent with a talent for living like a legend.

I used Maradona to make the point that too much make believe can hurt you. Maradona’s make believe cost him his health, his career, his family, even–it seemed–his grip on reality. Yesterday, it cost him the ultimate price, his life.

Dear Boys,

In a matter of hours the world filled with paeans to his talent, his skill, his style, his sweetness. A world with a shortage of global icons mourned together.

Diego in 1986
(Wikimedia Commons)

As I wrote in April, Maradona was always more of a myth to me. The tall tale legend of Maradona captured dominating opponents, running roughshod over rivals on the field, and shocking supporters outside and inside the stadium. Diego bought into the invulnerable Maradona persona but at the cost of the very human body of Diego.

But what I wrote then isn’t the end of the story. While make believe “Maradona” did burn out Diego’s candle, it lit a spark for the world.

Diego in 2020 (Aljazeera)

The outpouring of tributes this week isn’t made up. The effect Maradona had is real. The tears shed for him are shed, not in ignorance of how he suffered, but with appreciation of a flawed man’s complexity.

Love the good in all people. It’s easy to do with idols and heroes. We can forgive Maradona’s shortcomings because of how he inspired the world. It’s harder to do with every day people, but no less important. The spate of infuriated protestors across the street are difficult to deal with, but I strive to love them for advocating their beliefs just as I love Diego for struggling with his demons.

I hope you boys learn that, while not every person is admirable, everyone deserves your affection. We love others not because they earn it on the field or by their allegiances, but because we all struggle to be our best selves. You, me, the masked and maskless and Maradona.

47. Face the Future

47. Face the Future

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It struck me that I ought to explain a little bit about why we cheer for the teams we do. Well, in part, it’s because I thought we ought to, and I’m the one of us most capable of complex thought and logic. But also, each team has a special something that captures part of what I love about life, and part of what makes you who you are.

So periodically (like during international breaks, long summer holidays, or say, global pandemics that completely alter everything we understand about our lives and ourselves), I want to introduce you to the teams we are tied to.

Our tenth team to meet is a team that embodies the hope and optimism in a new vision of the future, Ghana’s Legon Cities FC.

Dear Boys,

Wherefore Legon?

Across the Atlantic, there’s hope and opportunity. That’s what your European relatives thought before they left Scotland, Norway, Serbia, and Germany (via Russia) to come to the United States.

They had hope because others were taken and brought across the same water without hope. Our opportunities were paid for, in part, with the blood and pain of others from Africa.

Centuries later, we can find opportunities for both ourselves and some of those most harmed by slavery. Africa is a continent of hope. Ghana is a country of invention and imagination. Legon is a city where the future comes to be real.

I studied in Legon during college. I made new and vital friends, read a lot of great literature, studied with excellent professors and poets, and taught amazing students. I enjoyed it so much, I did it again 5 years later. Legon is a special place. It is the future of a growing nation, and will help shape the future of our changing world.

Who is Legon Cities?

Legon Cities bringing the flash

A few years ago Ghanaian football was in trouble. Leaders in the country shamelessly solicited bribes. The league was plagued with allegations of cheating. And money for investment was scarce.

Enter Richard K. Atikpo. A well heeled oil tycoon, he swooped in to buy Wa All Stars, a northern team whose prior owner was in a heap of trouble, and move them to the Accra area, rebranding them Legon Cities.

In doing so he sought to build and brand a new kind of team in Ghanaian football. A team with as much flash and flair as a rock concert and as much ambition as the biggest sides in the game.

How are we Legon Cities?

It’s not that we have flash and flair. It’s not that we’re changing the game. But when the future comes to bear, Legon Cities is a symbol of what we aspire to do.

Heading into our future

When you have to face the future, approach it as an opportunity to seize not a challenge to be feared.

Ghana is going to shape the coming century. All of Africa will too. Our countries will become more diverse, more connected with the wider world. When they do, we ought to be Legon Cities. Accept the change and make the most of it.

We can say that we’ve backed Legon Cities from their start, even though that start was just a year ago. They’ll be near the future of football. I hope we are near the future of our world too.

46. The Fights that Need Fighting

46. The Fights that Need Fighting

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Just about all the oxygen in any news space for the last two weeks has been sucked up by the American Presidential election.

That is with good reason. Everything ties back to the person picked to run the biggest economy, biggest armed-forces, biggest diplomatic-force, and most influential culture shaper on the planet. Yes, there is unrest in Central Asia and another spike in the Coronavirus disease, but the President of the United States is uniquely situated to handle both in the same hour.

That is, if they choose to.

Dear Boys,

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite writers is simple: you don’t fight the fights you can win, you fight the fights that need fighting.

Actor Martin Sheen delivered the line…and is awesome

It comes from a movie about an American President (conveniently enough, titled, The American President) as the chief of staff tells a re-election minded president to stop strategizing and start doing what must be done.

I think about that a lot, because politics has become a place where the fights you can win, and the fights that need fighting are getting confused over, and over, and over again.

To step away from global affairs for a minute: this election has been ridiculously divisive. Not just between different parties, but between friends within the same party. Two men I deeply respect, both of whom I’m happy to have worked with, both of whom I’m happy to talk to, descended this week into an absolutely irrelevant fight over which hypothetical candidate would have done better as a presidential candidate and how their differences reflect a classism/ignorance that disgusts the other.

This is not a fight that needs fighting.

Debating what our goals out to be is fair, reviewing your personal biases is worthwhile, but dying on a hill over a hypothetical situation is ridiculous. It’s like saying that, if Asamoah Gyan had made his penalty against Uruguay, Ghana would have won the World Cup and he’d be winding down his career as a Juventus legend right now (rather than suiting up for Legon Cities).

Yes, that’s possible. But we have no way of knowing. And what’s more, it simply isn’t important enough to castigate those who disagree with you.

That’s anathema to our current president. A man who has never held back from a fight he didn’t need to fight.

To him a petty insult on social media is a ten alarm fire. A half-assed attempt at social consciousness is a Category 5 catastrophic disaster. An apparent personal failure is a clear and demonstrable sign that the end times are nigh, so take arms good Christian soldiers, take arms!

He is the king of fighting fights he can win, regardless of whether or not they need to be fought. He promised “so much winning” and to the eyes of many he’s delivered. (Despite the fact that the victories are pyrrhic at best, and–more often–totally invented.)

So, of course, he is fighting another fight that doesn’t need to be fought now.

He has been defeated. The experts who judge elections say so. The officials who tabulate votes say so. Behind closed doors, his friends and family say so.

But he’s fighting anyway. Unfortunately, he’s fighting what doesn’t need to be fought: imagined voter fraud, make-believe master-conspiracies, and totally valid critiques of his awful performance as president. He’s fighting all these so that he can continue fighting pointless fights he can win from the comfort of a presidential motorcade.

Robin Lod and fellow Loons couldn’t win, but it deserved a fight
(Pioneer Press)

In soccer, the game isn’t over until the final whistle. It’s thrilling to see teams hustle, and sweat, and strive to win. The Loons stealing a tie when the result didn’t really matter. (Harry Kane pipping a win for the premier league team I try not to talk about). Heck even Cukaricki getting a questionable winner to deny our friends in Vozdovac. Those are great moments, because playing with pride is a fight that’s worth fighting.

Protecting your ego, diminishing someone else, scoring a point on a hypothetical argument you can never prove: not worth it.

Fight the fights that need fighting boys. And if you’re not sure if it needs to be fought, just ask: would Donald Trump fight this? (If yes, then step back boys, step back.)

45. On Pain and Going Home

45. On Pain and Going Home

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Dear Boys,

If you boys end up sports fans, especially sports fans like me, you are going to have some hard defeats to swallow. The Vikings Wide Right? Sid Bream scoring from first on Barry Bonds? Basically any Yankees-Twins game?

But more than almost any other, when I think about the hardest losses, I think back to a match I watched on a warm, dark, night, with a plate of jollof rice, a roasted tilapia, a wine cooler, and a bunch of new friends.

I think about the “New Hand of God”, the last chance for “the hope of Africa”, I think about Luis Suarez v. Ghana in 2010.

Always an Ant. Love WASS

I had spent a month interviewing young Ghanaian student/actors about their sense of national identity and teaching Literature and Composition classes at a local high school ( “Playing the Part” pub. 2011 Bowling Green State University). At night, I’d call your mother, then my fiancee, and transcribe interviews while watching matches from the World Cup in South Africa.

A few days before, the US had been bested by Ghana…again. I’d been roundly jeered and jostled by every Ghanaian I lived near, worked with, and taught. By the next match, Friday, July 2nd, we were all friends again, and I was taking the night off from interviews to talk to the love of my life and watch the Black Stars.

It was…horrible. First there was the lead, the baffling long-distance strike from Sully Muntari. Then the anxious despair to stop any goals from the talented tandem of Diego Forlan and Luis Suarez. When Forlan equalized it seemed to doom us all. But the Ghanaians grew into the match, asserting themselves again and pushing on. When John Pantsil lined up the free kick it felt inevitable, and to see Stephen Appiah and Dominic Adiyiyah pounce, we were bubbling to burst into cheers.

Then…disbelief. Agony. Anger. Defeat. Suarez had stopped a clear goal with his hand. It was unfair, unjust, unbelievable. Instead of celebrating a hard fought but well earned victory, it was back to the penalty spot for baby striker, Asamoah Gyan.

I think it was Adama, my host teacher, pacing in front of the bar, who said, “no, no…not Gyan…he’s too excited-oh…”. And then…a clanging crossbar, an obviously agonizing penalty kick defeat, and a long, echoing, bitter silence. A painful feeling in a place that was so often music, and noise, and joy to see you.

That was a hard loss. It wasn’t just clearly hard for the players, or hard for me as a fan, it was hard because one whole nation, and so many more across the continent felt it. But, as with all things, it comes with a lesson.

We are marked by our pain, both in scars and in strength.

10 years on from that there’s been a recent spate of writing about the loss and the team that suffered it. But the story that comes to mind the most, is Homegoing , the American Book Award winning novel that has nothing to do with soccer, and everything to do with pain.

The book chronicles two families carrying the long legacy of trauma and tragedy from the golden coast of Ghana all the way to Stanford University and back again. It is beautiful, heartbreaking, and important.

Soccer isn’t that important.

Certainly a match ten years ago is nothing next to generations of stories and legends. However, there’s something about Homegoing that reminds us of the strength that comes with struggle. That through pain and degradation and angst come both our fears and concerns, as well as our strength and ability.

Asamoah Gyan went home last week. He’s said to have watched the match, and his failure at the spot dozens of times. It hurts me as a passive observer to watch it, and Gyan…it hurts him more.

I wish the match could happen again because it really hurts me every time when I’m alone. It’s something that I can never forget. I watch it over and over and over again and hope one day I can turn things around and make people happy.

–Asamoah Gyan (2014)
Baby Jet’s Return (Legon Cities FC)

But that’s the thing. The memory hurts (he stopped taking penalties for the team shortly afterward) but it also encouraged him to set a goal, a goal he’s chasing now in Legon. A goal he’s chasing down the street from where I watched him miss, from where that echoing silence seemed to bury us.

It may have scarred Asamoah Gyan, but it also strengthened him. I hope your most painful moments do the same.

43. Squeaky Bum Time

43. Squeaky Bum Time

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Dear Boys,

This past weekend witnessed a whole lot of tension for all of our favorite sides. Despite hours and hours of training, preparing, and strategizing everything that you want to go right may yet go horribly, horribly wrong, and there’s not much you can do about it.

In the same way, after a bit of over-confidence in 2016 led to a crippling four years of permanent anxiety, I’m constantly looking over news feeds for evidence of everything going wrong again. Again I’ve prepared. People I care about have prepared. But we know it might yet go wrong.

At times like this I think of a phrase from the great Scottish manager Sir Alex Ferguson (which I think I first heard from a Canadian colleague, Neeraj Prakash). He called it “squeaky bum time”, which I took to be that time when the end is nigh, and excitement has built to a fever pitch, but you can’t do anything about it.

My advice for you boys isn’t just to know that phrase, it’s a bit about what to do at times like that.

When you’re worried it will all go wrong, just try to do what you know to do.

Herr Leinhart (Freiburg.com)

Think of Freiburg. An early goal, and a quick concession and then ferocious pressure from Werder Bremen. At the core of all of it was Phillip Leinhart, who not only scored the Griffins’ goal, but anchored the defense to the bitter end.

Or there’s Rosenborg’s Kvinner. This team of tremendous attacking prowess, with all their threats and various ways to beat you finally faced the reality of a defeat, and responded by turning to the attack with even greater certainty until Sarah Kanutte Foldes won the day.

Even in America, we see it with Presidential Candidate and walking grandpa joke, Joe Biden. He’s never been the most eloquent, the most inspiring, or the most flashy. What he has been is reliable, dependable, charming, and genuine. So as the biggest campaign of his life (and indeed almost all of our lives) winds down, he is being that. Not being sucked into silly squabbles or crowd comparisons, just being himself.

All too often it gets hardest right before the end. Always remember that while you can’t control any outcomes, you can control your inputs. Rather than trying to do something new or staggering or amazing, do what you know.

Rosenborg Celebration (Time24)

Be Phillip Leinhart with his lockdown defense. Be Sarah Kanutte Foldes with her opportunistic attacks. Be Joe Biden with responsible, folksy, charm.

Or, if you boys end up like me, write about it.

42. Taking a Break

42. Taking a Break

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This last week was an international break. A time when great players can compete for their country, and when fans can thrill in a patriotic triumph.

It’s also a time when fans complain.

Feelings about International Breaks

A lot of fans would rather the players keep playing. Some wonder why clubs with international stars don’t carry on with the players who are in games for their country. Some wonder why we have to have international matches at all when the clubs actually pay the salary for players. Some bemoan the lack of entertainment and quality games, others wish that a few players who seek to stay home would respect the honor of playing for their nation.

Here’s my thing on this, for the very little it’s worth: everyone benefits from a break.

Dear Boys,

In my own career, I’ve spent hours upon hours not just teaching, but refining my practice, improving my skills, and attending workshops to discover new methods. I do it because I think my work’s important and I want to do it to the best of my ability. Sometimes I do it past the point of helping myself. [Ask your mom about the time I tried to cook lentil soup while grading papers and designing a new unit…it was…not good.]

Me at this time of year…

I benefit from a break, and, more to the point, so do my students, so do you boys, so does everyone I encounter. Because if all I ever do is work, then I don’t keep working well.

Hard as it is for passionate sports fans to admit, the same is true for professional athletes.

These people have spent their entire lives training their bodies to be in peak condition to compete at the highest levels and provide entertainment for us all. Every month or so, they get a break.

Good.

They don’t just need an “off-season” to recover, they need the time and head space to be human beings rather than our favorite source of excitement. They can rest their bodies. They can connect with their families. They can even not care at all about what a bunch of fans want and make sure that they are taken care of first.

Former Loons’ Captain Francisco Calvo deserves a break too (Pioneer Press)

Truth be told, rested players tend to be more fit. More fit players play better games, and we’ll all benefit from it. They also can be more balanced and better able to cope when their careers come to an end. Their health and well-being is so much more important that what I want for entertainment on a weekend that I can’t help but feel that anyone complaining about people taking a break is utterly selfish.

So, while some will tell you “there are no off days” or “grind 24/7/365”. Please, take breaks. You’ll be better for it.

41. The wheels on the bus

41. The wheels on the bus

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Dear Boys,

Everyone has one of those songs that just speaks to you. For you Alex, it’s Wheels On The Bus.

While it’s nice for the wipers to go swish, swish, swish, and the windows to go up and down, and the people to go bumpity-bump, we all know the best part.

Those wheels. The ones that go round and round, round and round, round and round and round and round.

This isn’t about reciting lyrics, this is about how those lyrics mean something, and how soccer shows it.

See the wheels aren’t the only thing that go round and round. Often in life you’ll find What goes around comes around.

You can see it in a pair of popular bus related metaphors in soccer.

Over 15 years ago an egotistical coach bemoaned opponents “parking the bus”. In other words he loathed the overly defensive style, the strategy that packed defenders in front of goal to blockade attacks.

Annoying bu tlegal

But since what goes around comes around, he has become one of the most ardent bus parkers in all soccer. It won him multiple domestic and continental trophies.

And as it goes around and around again, that strategy lost its effectiveness. That coach lost his magic touch and trust of his players. Perhaps it will go around again…but only time will tell.

Meanwhile, the coach of our local XI has an unpleasant tendency to throw players under the bus.

Rather than reflect on his failures, or others successes, it’s always someone else’s fault. Usually a player, if not writers, or the fans.

The coach, mid-bus throw…

It’s aggravating to hear. It’s frustrating to hear a leader blame others, including young athletes trying their best, writers doing their job, or fans without any control in the outcome. But it doesn’t seem to stop.

Until, of course, what goes around, comes around

It will, after all. Like the wheels on the bus go round and round, the wheels of karma do too. When he departs, he’ll have to shoulder the blame. Even if he tries to shirk it, players, press, and fans, will return the favor in tossing him under the bus.

The wheels on the bus go round and round. The wheels of fate go round and round. Know that what is great now, may be pain soon, and great again before long. Maybe that’s not the point of that toddler song, but I’m fried and it makes sense to me.

If I try to do this with the name game song, send for help.

40. It’s going to be a long year…

40. It’s going to be a long year…

by scruffyrube ♥ 1 Comment

I love sports, they just don’t always love me back.

Dear Boys,

If sports loved fans, the way we loved sports, everyone would always win and achieve a noble victory. But that’s not the way of things.

Before I wrote this blog for you, I wrote one about baseball with your mom. It was a way to be silly and talk with each other and share our love for the local team. (Before we acknowledged our love for each other)

The sad part is, while we watched some good games and cheered hard, the Twins always fell short. Sometimes they were the worst in baseball, sometimes the were the best…but still got beaten handily en route to another playoff exit. [As they were…AGAIN…this week]

Don’t think twice it’s alright….(Inside Hook)

Our expectations were always high and our disappointment was, correspondingly, deep.

Our attention to Alebrijes de Oaxaca hasn’t lasted nearly as long, but this numb, depressing, losing streak has still hurt. At a time when small clubs are struggling already, seeing Oaxaca suffer defeat upon defeat just compounds the pain.

With defeat and loss so common, it’s fair to wonder, why pay attention at all? Why put your heart out there if it’s probably going to end up in pain.

I’ve already said that trophies aren’t as important as learning from it. But if, like the jinxed Twins and the forlorn Alebrijes, you never seem to learn from your mistakes or change the cycle, then why?

Because learning loyalty is rewarded with loyalty of its own.

You don’t have to blindly adore them. You don’t have to spend money on them. But if you show your gratitude, show your concern, and offer your support you get so much back.

We will stand by the Twins even in the heartbreak of a record setting losing streak.

Another long, sad, walk home (Medio Tempo)

We will stand by Alebrijes even in a cellar dwelling campaign.

We stand with teams in the bad times and the good and we learn to do the same for others. Every time you show loyalty, your friends, neighbors and fellow fans will learn to keep the faith in you too.

Loyalty to losers is how we build community for the bad times. Hard as it is, this is a good time to love the Twins and love Alebrijes. This is a good time to build loyalty.